


Cruor

by cathrabun



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Androids and Vampires exist in this universe, Anxiety Attacks, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Gavin is losing his grip, Going through Blood Starvation, M/M, Nines playing babysitter for a newborn and very rude vampire douche, Of literally all kinds, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Prejudices against Androids/Vampires, RK900 is called Nines, Slow Burn, Vampires, Vampires have integrated into Society, coming to terms, lots of tension, this gets dark at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrabun/pseuds/cathrabun
Summary: With his face deeply buried in dirty linen sheets—he had been hit by a wave of fatigue close to dusk and slept in until 3pm—the stray reminder of his check-up is making itself known by the shrill sound of his phone alarm shaking him up and out of bed. His gums itch and tracing the outline of his pain with his tongue reveals itself to be yet another failed attempt at keeping his humanity in check as his mouth fills itself with half-vampiric blood from the fresh wound on his pierced tongue. Those fangs are gonna be a pain in his ass, it's the only thing he's one-hundred percent sure of after what had happened. Resisting the odd sensation to swallow it down, he spits it out onto the ground and grimaces at it as he makes his way into his bathroom to, at least, attempt to freshen up before his appointment.He already looks like a corpse.---A police android overseeing the turn and change of a newborn vampire. It's not exactly the most ideal solution Gavin Reed had imagined.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	1. Terrible Things

**Author's Note:**

> Why, hello there! This is my first fic in this fandom - and on AO3 - and sort of at all! My friend got me into writing and I've been really into vampire themed things lately so, really, it was inevitable for this to happen. I hope you enjoy my take on this type of universe!
> 
> Mind that this chapter bears a few dark thoughts, as well as a fast pace. We gonna jump right in!

Cruor

Had anyone told him then that he would be dead the next morning, Gavin Reed would have spit them square in the face.

It was cold, dark and wet. Detroit at its finest. The dirty climate managing to, even now, make it harder for him and his team to do their jobs properly. Fat puddles and freezing winds interfering with their gear and senses. Tina was panting heavily and strained right behind him, Fowler and Anderson giving directions and offering up the occasional lead or two over his earpiece. Because of course, the two old, saggy tits got to sit back and relax, to watch from a safe distance while him and the real troopers put their lives on the line out there. The rookies, brought in fresh from the police graduates' assembly line, had been called out to help on this investigation. It was now, he could feel it, things were going to change. They were finally going to catch the bastard who cost him weeks worth of his much needed beauty sleep. One of the very few cases he had ever gotten this invested in. The one that would, after years of doing the Detroit Police Department's dirty work, the kind of shit nobody else was willing to do, earn him that godforsaken promotion, at last. No more ass-wiping Hank-fucking-Anderson, no more babysitting new recruits. None of that small-man bullshit everybody else was craving. He could be free from it all, move on to better things. This one, it was special and he knew it.

Countless cones of light, cast by whirring, roaring and loaded electronic rifles, made the unforgiving rain spark excitedly as they neared the run down building. A place frequented by the occasional hobbyist photographer looking for a quick grunge shoot. From the looks of it, and what his reports stated, an abandoned storage unit. Metal containers full of unknown goods still neatly stacked up to god-knows how high created this distinct picture of unease, an uncanny shadow-y skyline.

Trembling from the cold, Gavin told himself to focus. Getting distracted on a mission like this could very well cost him more than just his badge. The case? A ballistic vampire gone rogue, unsatisfied with how things were being run around town. A classic, one might’ve said - about two-hundred years ago. A leech going feral was rare — things were different, these days. Strict rules in place to maintain a level of trust between them and humans, to make sure the bloodsuckers didn’t jump people out on the streets anymore. There was no need for that, after all. Not when, nowadays, those demonic things were practically being spoon-fed what they needed out of free will. What the new laws really were; an absurd mockery of a half-hearted equality or peace amendment, he figured. Some bureaucracy bullshit politics thing that he did not give two fucks about. The only thing peaking his interest was enforcing said laws, which usually meant that he got to beat up those who stepped out of line and put them back in their place.

The truth was that nobody trusted those things, even when claiming otherwise. Shifty eyes, stalking around at night and, of course, their perverse lust for human blood didn’t exactly make them the good kind of company. And if it was up to him he’d go back to the old ways, get himself a trusty wooden stick and hunt those fuckers down. For now, his police issued gun would have to do.

The fast paced footsteps over asphalt, the loud trinkle of rain echoing through large, open halls drowning out any other sound, sent adrenaline right to his loudly beating heart. He felt alive, alert, ready. Months of detective work lead him right here. He was proud of his accomplishment, really, he was. The symphony of a careful plan being executed so well, beyond his wildest dreams.

And it all came crashing down when the first blood hurling scream ripped through the night. One of his men being dragged away from the security of their formation. He just about managed to catch Millers’ expression of pure, unfiltered horror before he was gone. One by one, they disappeared until only a handful of them were left standing - then it was his turn to go. Months of detective work lead him nowhere, in the end. Nowhere but between the hungry fangs of a monster, devouring him alive. Trapped in the shadows. Gavin was toppling down, used and weak, unable to do anything when a round of shots was fired. He could make out the shapes of his attacker, the leech, as it went down dead to the ground. A nasty thing with blood red eyes, reddened cheeks from overfeeding. And a grin on its face, frozen and still, a predator bearing those razor sharp, dirtied teeth.

Next he knew, his mind plunged into a lonely, cold darkness. Void of feelings, exempt from a type of guilt he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his days.

* * *

He’s had hangovers before. Many even, but nothing could have prepared him for what he’d have to endure once he woke up from his peculiar slumber — somewhere in-between opening his eyes and coming to, he longed to fall back into the comfort of nothingness. The familiar thought of death was not a welcome tenant in his mind, but he did little to dismiss it after years of failure of doing so, before. Instead, he started to treat it like an old friend; the kind he’d known all his life, accepting each crooked flaw even if it irked him.

No changing the past, anyway.

In the present, a well-earned, loud yawn and a matching stretch are what start his morning off, just right. Nothing out of the ordinary. What makes him double over is the headache that follows. The confusion, accompanied by the white noise of temporary amnesia as he fails to remember what the hell happened to him, last night.

Falling out of bed is not an easy feat, but he manages to scoop himself up enough to make his way into the wreck of a kitchen his apartment houses. Desperate for a cup of coffee, despite his body protesting against it with all its might, of which it doesn’t seem to have much left anymore. It requires him nearly collapsing face-first into the kitchen island to slowly catch on and ask himself why he can’t remember anything beyond this strange morning and feeling like he had run a marathon just before passing out.

Really, why is he so weak?

With the coffeemaker working its magic, way too loudly for his migraine, and his stomach slowly greeting him with a wave of nausea, he takes a quick detour into the bathroom to empty what little he’s got left in him and flushes it down the toilet with a tired scowl on his face. Things aren’t quite making sense to him as he pointedly avoids looking in the mirror to get back to the holy cup of freshly ground beans waiting for him just a few steps away, back in the kitchen. It’s a real bummer that he can’t even keep a sip down before he feels compelled to spit it out into the sink, dumping the rest of the cup’s contents down with it. He briefly wonders if, maybe, the milk had gone bad, but his phone making a noise interrupts the clogging process before it can really begin.

Without looking, he fishes it out of his back pocket and accepts the call, blurting a desultory “Yeah?” into the device.

“Holy shit, Gavin! You’re alive!”, a scratchy, shrill voice cries out, “We lost track of you last night and couldn’t reach you, at all! You stupid asshole, why’d you do this to me?”

Most of what his friend just said takes a bit to seep through. That, and the accumulation of fast-paced words on the other end of the line was, physically, hurting his brain.

“Jesus fuck, Tina”, he winces, “stop screeching. Christ.”

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t. In the midst of, to him, unjustified insults and overprotectiveness, Gavin has to backtrack to connect two dots that, suddenly, flashed red before his inner eye. They pricked him like needles and tasted like copper on his tongue.

“Wait, wait-wait. You’re talking about last night?”, his brain was doing double-time trying to catch up. There was a thick fog clouding his memory and attempting to remember did as much as fanning at it to go away.

“Yeah, you idiot. I saw you getting dragged away by that-that _thing_ — we lost four guys out there. You were just gone, out of nowhere. I was so scared he’d gotten you, too!”

Slowly, images start to pop up in his head; flashlights in the rain, the team — his team. The team he was supposed to lead on the case he was supposed to solve. The vampire case!

“Oh God.”

Sense snaps into place like a whip crashing before his eyes. The fog effectively disappears in the rumbling sensation of panic taking over his nerves, loud as thunder. There is little he can do to stop a second heap of vomit threatening to escape his bowels. He drops his phone on the countertop, starts ripping and shoving away at his stupid sleeves — just now realizing he had fallen asleep in his clothes from the night before, covered in dried patches of his own blood and sweat — to look at his arms. There’s an itch around the bite marks that starts to plague him as soon as he lays eyes on them. Two on each of his wrists, one a little higher on his forearm. He dares to lift one of his hands to feel around near his neck. Reflexively, he jerks it away as soon as the tips of his fingers touch the raw, reddened skin. Tender, swollen, unmistakably bitten. He swears, multiple times, at himself, at the world, at the bastard that did this to him to no avail. When he picks the phone back up, he has started to shake.

“T, you need to get Fowler on the fucking line. Right now”, he eventually manages to get out.

When Captain Fowler starts speaking, evidently in a bad mood, Gavin has started nervously walking around in circles, glancing at the bite marks on his arms every other step in silly disbelief.

“I don’t think I need to make myself any more clear when I say that disappearing while on active duty and putting your colleagues at risk, is enough reason for me to suspend you indefinitely. Where the hell did you run off to?”

"I got turned."

Fowler is absolutely not hearing this right and asks again, making Gavin repeat his humiliation once more, bitterly this time.

"Turned?! Fuck- FUCK, you were one of my best men! How could this happen? You're a goddamn idiot—!" Tina cuts Fowler off by snatching her phone back and ducking away into the break room area of the Detroit Police Department, apologizing for their boss' behavior while the man is throwing curses around the precinct in the background.

Diverted from the chaos happening on the line, Gavin approaches the bathroom again, walking inside and holding himself up with one shaky arm on the sink. He exhales tremulously.

"So, you got bit? That’s why you ran off? Jesus, Gav. How are you feeling?"

Gavin snorts at her question, but it doesn't sound very convincing.

"Is that supposed to be a joke or somethin'? I'm gonna fuckin' die, T. God, Fowler is right; I'm an idiot."

"You're going to be fine, alright? We'll figure it out, we always do." Tina, too, does not sound very convincing, her voice quivering on the verge of tears. Gavin can feel his heartbeat growing weaker and quieter by the minute, can feel the tingling cold sensation of his life being reaped from his body - the life he foolishly threw away. If only he'd been more careful.

Looking up, his reflection greets him with a sinister tint.

Ruby sparking in his irises.

"No, Tina. I really don't think we're gonna do it this time."

He hangs up on her before she has a chance to complain just for the sake of doing so— sure, she wants only the best for her _best-friend-since-she-can-remember_ , but right now Gavin can't bring himself to feel anything but sorrow hearing her voice making it sound so effortlessly simple. It's not, and it would only get worse from here.

The next few calls weren't easy to make. Making appointments, scheduling vampiric registration, resigning from his human workstation to be transferred to the vampire wing. He still can't believe it. He'd never see those assholes at the DPD again. Though doubtful, he's sure that even Hank's visage would become a hard one not to miss having around to bully.

God, what's he gonna do now? He was told these things back in school— from elementary right up until the day of his graduation from the police academy, the same routine had been drilled into his brain over and over again; stay calm, get checked, resign and register. But back then this system had seemed foreign and stupid, he'd even laugh it off during his lunch breaks with friends. _Imagine_ , he'd said, _having to register yourself as one of those monsters, one day_. _I'd never be so dumb_ , he'd said. _Well, look who's laughing now, little guy_.

* * *

With his face deeply buried in dirty linen sheets—he had been hit by a wave of fatigue close to dusk and slept in until 3pm—the stray reminder of his check-up is making itself known by the shrill sound of his phone alarm shaking him up and out of bed. His gums itch and tracing the outline of his pain with his tongue reveals itself to be yet another failed attempt at keeping his humanity in check as his mouth fills itself with half-vampiric blood from the fresh wound on his pierced tongue. Those fangs are gonna be a pain in his ass, it's the only thing he's one-hundred percent sure of after what had happened. Resisting the odd sensation to swallow it down, he spits it out onto the ground and grimaces at it as he makes his way into his bathroom to, at least, attempt to freshen up before his appointment.

He already looks like a corpse.

In the end, he had opted for a simple, _probably_ clean-ish shirt of rosewood colour and the closest pair of trousers he could find. Well-worn leather jacket thrown over his shoulders, he calls an e-cab and makes his way outside onto the street for a short wait, a quick get-in and a comfortable ride up north.

The vampire part of town, he notes, looks more sterile than its human counterpart. It has to. Not only is it, logically, clear as can be of littering—no need for food packaging if you didn’t consume any of that stuff—it has always been a strict requirement for the districts to be kept in perfect condition. If there was anything out of place, the bloodsuckers could get their ass whooped to the moon and back. And he knew this only because, just shy of two days prior to this, he was on the other end of the, suddenly very black and white, spectrum of things. One that had seemed so natural and easy to follow all his life.

Inside the rustic looking building, equally as cleanly kept and looked after, Gavin’s nerves are wrecking his entire being. What does one sweaty, half-dead and unkempt human being even say at the occasion? A simple ‘hello, my name is Gavin Reed and I got turned by a vampire I was supposed to throw in jail last night’ seems awfully unfitting for the horrors of immortality yet to come, or whatever, that he had been ungracefully kicked into, face first into the dirt. It feels as though he’s still clinging onto the shovel that is burying him six feet under, in the process of locking away his past life behind a dark wooden coffin. Ironic, he thinks, but his elaborate, anxious thought process is cut short by the sound of an opening clinic door.

As the doctor approaches, pulling on a pair of silicone-rubber gloves, Gavin attempts to look a little less grumpy and fails miserably at it. The vampire smiles and greets the young man in front of him with a polite and professional tone to his voice, despite his extremely futile efforts. He had probably done this enough times to memorize every punctuation to every letter in every word of every sentence. Perfect, undead pricks.

"Ah, Gavin Reed, is that right? I should congratulate you on your way to a new life. It's quite exciting, is it not?"

The nerve on that guy. Congratulate him on becoming a walking corpse, the fact that Gavin lived to the day he hears these words. Incredible.

He sits up and winces slightly, noting that moving is starting to hurt.

"Sure", he croaks.

"As you know," the doc starts, "there, unfortunately, is no such thing as a cure for vampirism. And, I will not lie, it will be quite difficult to get... accustomed to, at first." Gavin feels like gagging.

"Now. I'm going to need you to take off your clothes, please."

"What, gonna stick your fangs up my ass?" A beat of silence crashes through the air, sharper than any answer could have been— and twice as embarrassing. He really should think before he speaks, shouldn't he?

"I'm going to check your vitals, your blood pressure, take a few samples. Take a look at your transformation and if it's going the way it is supposed to go. I suggest you comply. The quicker the procedure, the sooner you can be on your way back home to mope, Mr. Reed."

 _That motherfucker_.

Vampiric sass had not been on his having-to-live-with list today, but here he is. And it's not like he can talk back now, is it? What, with the guy being a billion years old, give or take, he probably doesn't take too kindly to rude newbies like him. But, really, what are his options, here? Because accepting it, truly, is not one of them. Still, he obeys. And he's pretty sure this is the doing of some compelling bullshit, because why? Why on earth is he obliging to the wishes of one of these freaks? Why is he even here? He should have shot himself back home, and gone out with dignity. Maybe write a cheesy goodbye letter to Tina and then have his corpse be eaten by his dumbass cat.

That, at least, would have been the better kind of evening.

Stripped nearly naked, Gavin is instructed to stand still, spread his arms out and keep them up until the doctor’s say-so as he's inspected from the tips of his hairs to his god damn toe nails. His bite marks are in dire need of disinfecting, which burns like a _bitch_ , but gritting his sharpening teeth through it eases the pain a little bit. That, and he's starting to get distracted by the feeling of sandpaper doing wheelies in his throat.

"Could I, um—" he starts, coughing up some spit, "Could I get some water?"

The doctor perks up at the sound of his voice, tipping his glasses with two fingers. This is odd, he knows it is. His thirst isn't due for a couple more days. He's changing fast; too fast for his liking. And it looks as though his doc agrees.

"Of course."

Only five minutes pass, in which Gavin is instructed to dress himself again, until a nurse brings him two—yes, two—glasses of ice cold water, that he downs in less than a minute with fast and eager gulps. Once finished, he is breathing heavily and, unfortunately for him, notices that it did little to no good for the drought inside of him. Both doctor and nurse exchange uneasy looks. Okay, maybe it’s a little worse than he thought.

"Well, the good news is that it looks as though your change will be completed before the next sundown." Gavin's blood grows cold— colder, his heart had stopped ten minutes ago. A week, at least, he was told. Why was this happening so fast?

"What? It's barely been two days, I—" - "The bad news, Mr. Reed, is that this means it will take much longer to adequately starve you. Instead of a few days, you'll start experiencing hunger sooner. Therefore, you'll have to be starved for well over a week. This could have serious consequences for your health, and people around you."

Gavin stands still in his motion. He’s about to say something but the words get stuck in his dry, dry, dry throat. So instead, he gets angry. Furious, even, boiling up until his eyes water. This is not fair!

"God fucking damn it! Of course, it had to be me. Not only am I doomed to be a— a fuckin' man eating piece of shit cannibal— I also have to be starved? Why don't you just kill me already, then? Fuck!"

"Every vampire goes through a starvation period after their turn, it's written in the law. You just have an added... challenge. We will take precautions to make it easier for you, you have a right to live before we would have our hands forced."

He's at his breaking point. With a loud, animalistic grunt, Gavin grabs the nearest piece of doctor's equipment he can find and sends it shattering into pieces on the ground. He regrets it a second after, the shards warping his reflection but he can still see his grown-out fangs and blood red eyes clear as day. Hopelessness overrunning his anger, he gives up fighting. _It's too late now, anyways_.

He slumps down on the examination matt, head hanging low. This has got to be a cruel joke.

"What're the precautions?", he asks, his voice raspy and deep. The doctor clears his throat, not mentioning whatever Gavin broke, or his completely ruined room, for the moment.

"We will have someone sent to monitor you at all times throughout your starvation. Right up until your first meal, to ensure there are no... casualties." A pause, Gavin looks up, about to say something when the doctor continues; "Though, I'm sure you'd be able to handle yourself just fine, from the looks of it. No?"

Of course, he doesn’t appreciate the backhanded douchery, but the comment rips a frustrated, sad chuckle from him nonetheless. He was, truly and utterly, done for.

* * *

Once the appointment wound up, which had happened suspiciously quickly after their revelation and his little tantrum, Gavin was ushered to return home. _Lock the doors and windows. We'll take care of the rest,_ they had said. And, though he had his doubts regarding the latter, he obliged. There simply was no fighting what this was. Which brings him here, drowning himself in sadness in the comfort of his bedroom.

That is, until three loud, perfectly timed knocks echo through his apartment.

Because, who is he fooling, really—he can't sleep at night anymore—Gavin gets out of bed and fixes himself half-heartedly on his way to the front door. He's not wearing anything besides shorts that he'd left in the dryer for too long that one time, and a pair of pretty ugly socks. The kind grandma sends over on Christmas day, the kind that one keeps because every other pair has miraculously disappeared over the rest of the year. Also, corpses be damned, they did have cold feet and he was not going to accept that as a fact as simply as he did that he was turning unnaturally fast and was, basically, done with it already. _Two fuckin days_ , he thought. Again, a joke. Had to be.

Opening the door quickly enough to hear a sharp _squeak_ , followed by a quieter _creak_ and an even quieter _crack_ , Gavin is met with the side view of an admittedly way too pretty face. One he strangely seems to recognize from somewhere. Had they met at work, or somethin'?

"Who're you?" The handsome stranger smiles darkly and lowers his head before speaking up. All of his movement seems odd, calculatedly perfect. A vamp too, maybe?

"Your new best friend, Detective Reed. I was sent to keep an eye on you. You do remember the appointment you had, earlier today?"

Gavin squints, unappreciative of the other's tone. "Of course I do, asshole."

"Good, you _had_ me worried there, for a second. May I come in?"

Gavin opens the door further and notes no strange smells on the guy as he walks in, passing him in doing so. No, there was something, but ... it was too sterile to be vampiric. They usually smell like death, he had figured out on his way back home. A horrible find.

"Alright, why would the council send just a random guy to monitor me, while I’m being starved? Doesn't that seem a little unorthodox? What if I go feral, try to eat you?" The chuckle emitting from the man sends shivers down his cold, dead spine. Having to deal with the effects of rigor mortis wasn't fun, particularly after having lied down for more than five hours after his appointment. But seriously, what was the guy laughing so smugly about?

"I doubt that will be a problem, detective", the man says, turning to face Gavin head-on. The LED swirling a cool, calming blue on his temple was answer enough. Unwelcome, but there it was, blinking "obvious" right in his face. He groans. This will surely be the worst few weeks of his life.

"Of course you're a fuckin' android. Should've guessed it. You reek of, what's-it, that blue blood shit." Gavin scrunches up his nose, faking a gag. "Awful smell, by the way. Just so you know." The android rolls its ice blue eyes and shakes its head, as if it can _feel_ what annoyance really is, while Gavin shuts the front door gracelessly and moves over to let himself fall onto his squeaky, old sofa. He rubs at his temples. It's not a pulsating pain—no heartbeat has its perks, go figure—though the constant sting is anything but pleasant.

What was it? _Temporary migraine due to hypersensitivity to any and all forms of light_. Should be gone soon, the doctor had said. Yeah, right. Because everything else about his transformation was, also, going strictly as planned. Or not planned, for that matter. He has no "vampiric father," for the lack of a better term, because he really, really does not want to even think about calling anyone his _sire_ , or _master_ , or whatever the fuck that leech who did this to him would have been to him if it hadn't gotten itself killed, back there. He was all alone, unceremoniously bitten, turned and doomed. He was strictly forbidden contact with anyone from his former life, tomorrow it would be written in contract for his registration as a legally tested and documented vampire of Detroit, Michigan. If he was able to make it, that is. The unforeseen turn of events—har har—was not going to make this easy for him.

Speaking of, where'd that bodyguard of his go? He'd been too caught up in self-wallowing to really think; having one of those creepy robots in his home un-observed might not be such a good idea. Gavin sits up a little too quickly, his bones snapping in their places loudly, making him want to vomit. If only he could.

"Ey, Terminator! Where'd your plastic ass wander off to?"

Shuffling in the kitchen could be heard as an answer. "I'm right here, detective," it says, voice low and rough. He'd already noted that its exterior vaguely reminds him of that Connor thing he once had to deal with, a couple months back. He's glad at least a few changes were accounted for. With that thought in mind, Gavin follows the sounds, grunting like an old man as he gets up and practically waddles, awkwardly stiff, over into the kitchen area.

Open, simple, a little dirty, with tools that were rough around the edges. Just like him.

"What're you doing in my kitchen? Lookin’ for a midnight snack?" The last two words roll effortlessly off his tongue in a tone that mocks but also promises curiosity. The android shakes its head, scoffing at the remark but otherwise ignoring his antics to further dig through his half-empty cupboards and shelves.

"I see you haven't cleared out any of this, yet. You should store your leftovers and donate them to the nearest homeless shelter. It would be a shame to let all this food go to waste."

"Calm your tits, it's not like I had much time to get used to... this." He brings his hands up in faux claws, bearing his teeth in a goofy expression.

The android doesn't emote. Slowly, Gavin remembers why he doesn't like these things. Revolution or not.

"I suppose that is true", it says instead, closing the cupboards again to give its full attention to the conversation, "You're quite the curious case, you know."

"Am I, now?"

"Indeed. Your story is already making the rounds in local news. The _fast-bloomer_ _vampire_ \- people surely haven't heard that one, before. It's fascinating." What a little prick, Gavin thinks as the other turns around in an almost domestic play, leaning against the countertop and crossing its arms, clearly enjoying the banter. Gavin copies the pose, scowling and tilting his head.

"Alright, I'll bite", he made a note to mentally kick himself for that one later, "Y'know what's fascinating? Vamps sending a cop bot from the department to stay at my place. Smart, though, I'll give 'em that."

The android seems a little taken aback by Gavin's astute observation who, in turn, loses his scowl in favor of a wicked grin.

"That's right, I remember where I've seen you before. You just got introduced at the DPD a few days ago, before my _accident_. RK- what was it?"

There's an awkward pause, almost as if the bot needs time to swallow. Too bad it didn't actually need to do that. Still, it took the other a minute to find its composure again.

"RK900, detective. We hadn't officially met, yet, but I've had the pleasure of overseeing your very last mission from behind the scenes with Lieutenant Anderson and his partner, my predecessor." Gavin watches the android clearly having some sort of uncomfortable and unpleasant reaction to being caught, figuratively, blue-handed. The walking, not yet entirely vampiric corpse of a man relaxes at the sight, some sort of pride surging through his still veins. He's made a machine all flustered, amazing.

He isn't getting any chance to gloat, however - the android looks up at him, meeting his gaze and rendering him entirely speechless. They truly make these things too pretty, these days.

"I'm sorry, I know it's unprofessional of me, but when Fowler had gotten the call, I took the job without hesitation. I feel partially responsible for what happened to you, that night. And I figure it might be a good opportunity for you to stay, at least somewhat, legally connected to your former self." His ears perked at that. Right! The RK900 worked at his old station - it knew all his old co-workers. It knew Tina, for fucks sake!

"Son of a bitch", Gavin breathes, "You're a lot smarter than you look." That was a complete lie, but if the android picked up on it, it isn't letting it show. And despite everything in him begging him, screaming not to because it's a machine and probably only following some weird program protocol or- whatever, he feels grateful for what it'd done for him. No, he doesn't blame it for what happened, either.

"Look. If I hadn't ignored _my_ instructions to go after the guy, I would've been fine. 's not your fault, or Anderson's. Even though I really want to blame that dickward. But - you took a risk for me, coming here. I appreciate that."

"Well, if you hadn't ignored your instructions, there would still be a very dangerous vampire on the loose. The way I see it, you sacrificed your life for those of hundreds. I can respect that." Gavin frowns when he says that, lifting his hand to gesture to the front door pointedly, voice taking on a defensive tone.

"Yeah, we'll see about that. If we're unlucky, we're gonna have a brand new dangerous vampire out there in less than two days."

Both of them shift from comfortable to quite the opposite and Gavin clears his painfully dry throat before leaving the android in his kitchen to ponder over what he had just said. To it, Gavin’s proposition was silly, at most. Starving vampires is and always has been standard protocol; a necessity to keep their ruthlessness and blood-lust in check. Truthfully, it would be far more concerned had the man been fed sooner rather than later. To think of the consequences shook it to its Thirium core.

After their short encounter, the RK900 decidedly felt it was of far more use, would it start preparing Reed’s home for the next few days. And so it, now, busies itself by clearing out the rest- and bedroom’s respectively off items the soon-to-be vampire won’t need any longer. Gavin, on the other hand, has taken to trying to sit as still as possible and letting the android do whatever it had been doing for the past hour and a bit without disturbing it further. More accurately, his growing thirst and hunger are taking a toll on him. He can feel it pulling him outside, the newborn beast inside of him demanding attention. If he just keeps calm, he thinks, maybe he can just ignore it until it passes.

Would it not be for the fact that it won’t, ever, pass.


	2. Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to vampiric registration and its many challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not entirely beta'd yet, but I wanted to upload something again sooner rather than later. Thanks to @legendtripper for bearing with me and helping me make sure this fic is not a total mess!
> 
> Quick warning for some panic and anxiety attacks this chapter. Nothing too graphic, but just in case.
> 
> Hope you like this one.

Riptide

_What was one to wear to a registration event?_

He’d regretted asking the minute he did. Had he known then, that he’d be wasting away for the next _two_ hours in his apartment choosing the right textiles for it, he is convinced that he wouldn't have done it. To him, picking something out would have been a question of Burgundy - _or was that too on the nose_ _?_ He’d also been stocking up on carmine sweaters for the colder seasons. It was tough to make up his mind and choose something from his, albeit little, display of options, spread out on the bedsheets in front of him, with his new android servant judging each apparel separately in categories from least likely to most likely to offend participants that would be present in the hall. At this point, Gavin is sure he’ll be attending his own funeral first, before they even get there.

With an unsatisfied sound, the RK900 neatly folds and sets aside the last piece of clothing that he owned, having successfully emptied his entire closet.

“None of these will do. Are you sure you don’t keep any plain dress shirts for finer occasions?” the android seems desperate when it asks and its mood sours when Gavin shakes his head, leaning against the doorframe. Waiting in vain for this torture to be over. It irks him, this thing, deducing his fashion sense, flawed as it were. So what if he liked to be comfortable?

“Why’s it important, anyway? It’s just a court reading, a couple people signing papers, not a fuckin’ wedding, damn it.”

“It is also the last time you will be, legally, allowed to see your family, friends and colleagues face-to-face before the order is set in place-”, the android says as it tilts its head and furrows its brows, like it can’t comprehend the other’s lack of concern on the matter, “don’t you want to make an effort, detective?”

Gavin scoffs at that. An _effort_ , yeah right. When was the last time he’s ever been forced to make an effort for someone? And, more importantly, when was the last time someone’s ever made an effort for _him_? Excluding the high-end police android in his room currently picking apart his entire wardrobe to make sure he’d look just right. That was, obviously, just some dumb machinery-processing-pattern bullshit. And it had started to seriously get on his nerves during the first half hour of unnecessary commentary on his preference for anything obtaining the colour red. Briefly, he wondered if that would become a problem, soon. What if he started salivating on his favourite hoodie just because it looked like it got dunked in hot sauce, or whatever?

“Fuck it, hand me whatever button up you’ve got, over there. I’m not hearing any more of this shit.”

“Detec-”

“Now, asshole!” The look it gives him might force him to pout in discomfort, but he will not spend another minute arguing over this, lest he lose his mind from comparing white to eggshell scenarios instead of the bloodlust that was, still, taking up a considerate amount of space, up there. He’s been trying to ignore it.

It’s not really working. And with the hunger increasing, his mood had rapidly begun to shrivel into snarls, insults and tensity. 

Swallowing his guilt down low where he’d never see it again, he snatches the clothes from the android’s still hand as quickly as it had handed them over, wordlessly stomping out of the room to go and get dressed. In the meantime, the RK900 starts sorting the man’s belongings back into the closet whilst the one in question locks the bathroom door, just in case his visitor suddenly starts to feel curious. He needs some space to breathe. His nerves are on edge as he peels off his dirty shorts and socks, anxiety riddling his brain for answers he couldn’t provide. 

Shaky hands cling to the cold porcelain sink, bloodshot eyes staring back at a stranger. It’s been difficult, getting adjusted to the changes. Yes, sure - the hunger is bad, but it is the little things that have started to get to him. Like the potent missing of a heartbeat in his chest, the aching bones and muscles yearning to be put to indefinite rest, the looming fear of losing Tina and her eventually forgetting about him. Having an android offering some intel on what was going on in the station after he’s gone is a privilege, and he knows this, but it would never manage to, fully, fill the void in his life that’s waiting for him.

Somewhere between his already worried thoughts, the shy slither of another added itself to the pile. It crept up on him in silence - he hadn’t fully realized its presence until it wrapped itself cruelly around his neck, making him choke and sob in despair. Now, it threatens to wring him dry of the last crumble of hope he’s got left, a last, dying breath stuck in his lungs and a dear reminder that the final stage of his transformation is awaiting him. He swallows, a drip of sweat running down his back.

_What if he hurts someone during the ceremony?_

What, with all the preparations and _excitement_ about his unique condition, nobody’s told him about what would happen, would he not be able to control himself in a room filled to the brim with potential meals and appetizers. What if he goes feral? Kills everyone there? It gets harder to breathe and images of injured family members and friends start to fill his vision. His tears burn in the corners of his eyes, the acrid bile he throws up into the sink an evil colour. He’s sweating and shivering at the same time.

Before he knows it, he’s already sitting on the ground, face buried in his arms, and his aching, cold body rocking back and forth in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. He can’t go, of course he can’t go. But he can’t wait it out, either. Not even in _his_ case would a vamp be allowed to register itself post-change with no further records proving it was clean, hadn’t killed anyone yet. They kept a close eye on these things, no exceptions made it through. His mind is spiraling, painfully urging him to think of the worst scenarios, practically spoon feeding them to him.

That is, until three soft, perfectly timed knocks echo through the bathroom walls. The odd familiarity to the gesture catches him off guard. 

“Is everything alright, detective?” The android sounds, convincingly, upset. Or worried, or whatever the robot equivalent of it is. Gavin decides not to answer.

Not that it cares much about that.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but there is a small animal in your apartment. I suspect it broke in when I wasn’t looking.”

Gavin is able to just about lift his head, giving his all not to make any evident noise when the android speaks up again.

“I think… I think it’s a cat.” He curses under his breath.

Running a quivering hand through his sweaty locks, he says; “God damn it, that’s - She’s mine. Just wait, I’ll be right out, give me five minutes” and forces himself to get his shit together, for once. 

It takes him longer than expected to get dressed, clean up, brush his teeth and attempt to brush his hair into a less of a dead-body looking mess, but he eventually stumbles out of the bathroom in all his extremely modest glory. To his surprise, he finds the android has sat down to enjoy the company of his cat on the couch, both of them appearing to get along just fine. Which, honestly, is a miracle. He steps closer.

“I’ve never been able to get that shitface anywhere close to me,” Gavin says, hiding his jealousy in a layer of general grumpiness, and the android perks up. “I guess that means she likes you.” 

True to his words, the cat hisses and escapes the android’s lap as soon as he lets himself fall into the cushions right next to it. The RK900 doesn’t look particularly happy about that, but it doesn’t object, either. Instead, it folds its hands in a polite manner, facing Gavin and shooting him a less-judgmental look than it had back in the bedroom. Apparently he did opt for burgundy, in the end. 

“You look good,” it says, which is a vast overstatement. _Passable_ might be a better word for it, but he’s not going to question it.

“I’ll take that as the highest of praise, coming from you and your fuckin’ fashion sense ass _perfectionism_.”

“If you must.”

A beat of silence falls between them. This time, a little less uncomfortable.

“How are you feeling?”

Gavin chews at his lower lip, then swallows - embarrassed to speak up and letting his tired eyes roam around the room, defensively.

“I don’t know. Pretty dead-beat, I guess,” he eventually croaks, huffing at the failed attempt of a joke, but it’s evidently not the answer the other is looking for.

“I was talking about your throat,” it says, calm as ever. “How are you coping?”

He groans, subconsciously moving his hand to wrap around his own neck in an attempt to soothe it. “Fuck, Nines. _Awful_ , thanks for askin’. Prick.”

The android seems to take a moment to think. It concerns Gavin enough to look at it, again. A mistake, he finds, and he swears his heart jumps in his chest with those eyes fixated on him. Stupid Cyberlife and their stupid, _pretty_ merchandise.

“Do you think you’ll be alright to see the council this evening?”

Gavin scowls at that. “Why do you even ask? ‘s not like I got much of a choice, here.”

“That is true. Though, if it’s of any consolation, I was authorized to use any means at my disposal to ensure everyone’s safety for as long as I’m assigned to you.” 

Gavin’s eyes narrow. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that, until your turn is complete, you’re weak enough for me to keep in a choke hold. You will not be able to hurt anyone, today. I’m qualified to deal with these kinds of things.”

They both blink at each other; Gavin in some sort of trance-like disbelief, an open mouthed gawk and the RK900 mechanically, matter-of-factly. When it stands up, hands behind its back, he’s still trying to process what he was just told. Did that thing just tell him it’d _knock him out cold_?

“By the way”, it continues, the illusion of a smirk playing at the corner of its mouth before he even has a chance to speak up, “Nines. I like it.”

Gavin is both relieved by- and hates the fact that, despite everything, he can still blush.

* * *

On the ride to the Detroit Council Center, Gavin already has trouble keeping his eyes open. 

The only thing worse than his newly found sensitivity for sunlight was his now nocturnal nature getting the better of him. In fact, it affects him so badly, he starts loudly cussing out each and every one of the guests who would be attending his registration today, who were human and lawfully required to be there. The RK900—or _Nines_ , as they had swiftly agreed on after their chat earlier in the morning—repeatedly points out that a _tired_ newborn vampire makes for a far better attendee than one of the _alert_ kind. 

He’d then argue that he feels horrible, weak, tired and like death itself. His anxiety swept away by a dull, numbing wave of fatigue—he is at the mercy of his own, drained body. However, it does make sense; the starving, delivering him tired into a room full of pointedly _alive_ people he wasn’t allowed to touch. 

To humans, dealing with creatures as foul as vampires has always meant finding alternative, more “humane” ways of co-existing with them. It meant that inhuman strength, a thirst for blood, their persuasiveness were too dangerous and unfair. They needed a level playing field. After all, who would simply accept being kidnapped and killed as their reality? At this point, it all is old news to Gavin. Countless classes in school wasted on learning the subject; _vampiric history_. Fancy that for finals week. 

He knew the key to everything was the blood. Well fed vampires had a tendency to act out, crave more of it - and sooner. They’d become reckless, drunk on the stuff. As a useful, little side effect of consuming so much of it, they were stronger, faster, possessed instincts like predators. Until they were stopped. Hundreds of years of wars and shed blood led society to a point where humans had the means to provide and vampires were coerced into becoming the demanding participants in a game they didn’t want to play.

Neither race wanted to go extinct, so arrangements were made… _Blah, blah, blah._ Nowadays, people knew that a hungry vampire was a _weak_ vampire, a desperate one. To keep them from going feral, the state in which they lost all control, blood-banks were built, insurances set in place to meet whatever cravings they needed fulfilled at very specific times each week. All animal blood, of course, gathered from mass production plants. Only the bare minimum was handed out to keep them alive, never enough to have them crave more. And human blood was entirely off the table—with it, most if not all their fancy super powers.

Humanizing them, keeping them pliant had worked out good enough. Eventually they’d gotten used to it, but just in case, law enforcements were amped up to _eleven_ for the poor bastards. It’s how things were managed, it’s what he was used to. If they wanted to exist, they’d have to play by the rules. If not, well… they'd have to suffer the consequences. Easy enough. 

But now living it, something nags at him. Something making a fuss about the unfair nature of the whole process and how it forces him to go through such tremendous pain and continues to belittle him no matter what he does—or doesn’t—do, when there are surely far better ways of handling things. Better options to make vampires _want_ to be compliant that don't involve physical torture, turning them into weak, scared and defenseless, _desperate_ husks. Into shadows of their former selves. Humans want them docile, easy to handle and less of a threat. He’s growing unsure if the decision of denying them who they really are is morally right, then quickly snaps out of it.

This is just his hunger talking, somewhere beneath his rationality. Of course, he knows what these fuckers can be capable of. Hell, he's _seen it with his own eyes!_ It's good to beat them into a state of submission. It's justified, always has been. 

The cab comes to a halt, abruptly shaking him up and out of his preoccupied state of mind. In his tired haze, he notices that Nines has been staring at him throughout the entire ride's journey, probably taking mental notes or some shit. 

"Showtime", it says with a cold smile, too calculated to pass as genuine. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear something about it almost looks sad, but the fleeting thought is quickly chased away. 

He had to remember, as he climbed out of the boxy vehicle, that the machine, today, was not _his_ protection so much as it was everybody else's. The pang of pain running through his chest at the thought of that was willfully ignored as he trotted into the beast of a building.

* * *

Gavin was unsure if it were the sounds of beating hearts surrounding him, thrumming loudly in his ears and giving him vertigo from how they seemed to shake the room, or all of the eyes fixated on his person that made him want to turn around and leave immediately. _Everyone_ was here and somehow he wasn’t sure what else he had expected.

“This was a mistake, we should go back, I can’t do this, I—” The world spinning, panic sitting like a spring coil in his stomach, ready to explode. Reed gags and has to clasp his mouth shut with one hand to keep himself from throwing up all over himself in front of the guests. Strangely, the only thing keeping him grounded is the feeling of a warm, strong hand on his back holding him and keeping him from tipping over into darkness.

“You will be just fine, detective. Remember, I will be with you all day.”

The humming voice helps drown out the unpleasant orchestra, the effervescent crescendo of blood pumping, people talking, clocks ticking inside the room. All of it tempting him in different ways to do a multitude of different things. It takes him a minute, but he eventually fixes himself and takes a deep, healing breath through his mouth—he doesn’t trust his nose, in here. The embarrassed shove the android receives once Gavin catches up with how close they stood together, in the midst of curious yet concerned attendees, is respectfully ignored.

Greeting people he was happy to see, like his mother and Chris' ex-wife, was more of a task than shoving away the one's he wouldn't be missing. More emotions; he wasn't good with that sort of thing. It's much easier to throw insults back and forth with Hank Anderson than accept gifts and say Goodbye's. Though, even Hank had seemed concerned about him and ended up wishing him well before joining Connor and Fowler somewhere in a corner further into the room. Speaking of, Connor, Nines' twinky clone, had made sure to take up at least half an hour of his time, thanking him for their time together and apologizing for that thing that had happened in the archive room, a couple months ago. Gavin wouldn't speak of it if his life depended on it because admitting that Connor, of all androids, had kicked his ass was just too much humiliation to handle. Nines seemed quite happy to see the android, though, excusing itself for a quick chat and momentarily leaving Gavin to his own devices.

“Gav!” Fast approaching footsteps, followed by a hug tight enough he is sure that, if he still had it, his blood circulation would have been cut off, redirecting his attention. He is convinced that he had, never in his life, been this happy to see Tina Chen.

The embrace is short lived—evidently, she had forgotten just _why_ they were here as she steps back, shivering and exclaiming; “Fuck, you’re so cold.”

Gavin offers an apologetic smile. “The wonders of being dead, T.”

“Good evening, officer Chen”, Nines chimes in, back at his side. The entire encounter feels stiff and unkind. Part of the turning vampire wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that he can practically taste the fear Tina radiated in the air.

“Are you alright?”, she asks, sounding genuine, and Gavin scoffs.

“Could be better. Feels like I’m about to pass out any second”. Giving her a worried look-over, he adds; “What about you? How’ve you been holding up?”

“Shit, I don’t know. It’s not the same without you and Chris, fuckin’ miss both of you.” Tears well up in her eyes. “You’re such a dipshit, you know that?”

“Been told that, many times.”

“Fuck you”, she huffs out, laughing sadly and rubbing at her eyes. 

Neither of them find it easy to come to terms with any of this and Gavin quickly realizes that the fear he’s sensing isn’t directed at him, but the fact that this is their very last conversation. He knows this because he feels the same way. Their silence speaks volumes.

“Fuck it, c’mere.”

And then he’s pulled into another tight hug, feeling the human tremble against his cold body. It feels like forever has gone by when Gavin’s name is called out over speakers, inviting him into the next room and catching the attention of everyone that had started chatting in the hall, again. Unwillingly, he let’s go of his friend.

“I’m glad you came here”, he says, “I’ll see you, fuckface.”

Both of them smile, Tina chuckling, though both of them also realize that it is a lie.

Nines had been silently watching their encounter, the strange sensations and emotions running through the android are unfamiliar, indefinable. Its HUD lights up, telling it to help however it can. For now, the countless indicators and messages are dismissed. When Gavin is called into the room a second time, it nudges the man gently, coaxing him to move along. It does not particularly enjoy breaking up such an intimate moment, but things like these were sensitive in importance, urgency and time.

A pair of large, toned glass doors make way for the two of them, leading into what looks suspiciously close to a courtroom, of sorts. At the end of the hall, four human registrators find their places with a single seat in the middle, right in front of them. Surrounding the display, he sees desks and tables, all electronic, that he suspects are for later use. For his guests, enough space to sign their agreements on. To his left and right he sees emergency exists and guards waiting at each one of them, cameras in every corner of the room. Vaguely, as he gets closer, he can make out the indistinguishable shapes of UV lights, expertly placed right in front of his hosts, pointed directly at his chair. The longer he looks, the more it starts to feel like an interrogation room, instead.

“Gavin Reed. Take a seat”, one of the hosts, a hostess with blonde hair, commands. Because there is no other option, he does as he’s told and sits down on the, notably uncomfortable chair. All four of them, his guests in the back and the cameras in the room watch him closely. For some reason, he feels a _little_ on the spot. 

His eyes start to get heavier when the next host speaks up, some older looking guy with red locks, eyebags and freckles.

“Welcome. I’m sure you’re already at least vaguely familiar with vampiric registration. We’ll do some routine checks, a background and health check and ask you a couple of questions. After that, you and everyone waiting in the hall will sign a court order that forbids each of them contact with you and vice versa, no exceptions. Nothing that will take up too much of your time. Are you ready to proceed?” The man sounds as tired as Gavin feels.

“Yeah, sure”, he answers, swallowing the lump of fear that’s burning in the smothering heat of his throat. Nines notices the spike, steps closer to the chair and unfolds its arms from behind its back fluently, to place its hand on the man’s shoulder for support. It had picked up, earlier, how the touch soothed him. Gavin almost resists it, but the comfort is much needed - he’s unsure if he can make it through this without it, nausea returning to his guts like an old friend.

* * *

The first hour goes by fairly quickly. The third and fourth hostesses recite some bullshit semi-important-sounding script he barely listens to, one and two taking turns asking him some basic questions. Address, age, family name, work place, monthly income, date and time of the accident— the whole spiel. The doctor’s reports are brought up briefly, none of them batting an eye at the quite unusual change he was going through. _Fuckin’ registration drones_ , he thinks. 

By the third hour they finally bring up his starvation period and the android, who is still clutching his shoulder tightly.

“How are you getting along with the android, Mr. Reed?”

“Err—”, he looks up at it, briefly, “Fine, I guess. Not a fan of the whole _concept_ of being watched, but ‘s not like I can do much about this. It’s kind of prissy.”

The pain in his shoulder from the android clawing into it sharply for a moment or two goes unnoticed by the hosts, but Gavin shoots it a dirty look, shaking his shoulder free from the intrusion. Nines seems entirely unbothered, taking a step back and folding its hands behind its back, again, instinctually.

“Detective Reed and I are getting along just fine. I lend a helping hand where I can.”

“Good”, scribbling can be heard as all of the hosts take notes—they’d been doing that every time either of them opened their mouths, “and what about your hunger? I hear it started early.”

He had almost managed to forget about it until now.

“Manageable”, he lies. The android notices.

“Really?” The ginger haired host doesn’t sound very convinced.

“Yeah. Not like it’s the best feeling in the world, but ‘s fine. I manage.”

The hosts’ expressions worry Nines. It is about to object when a cart is brought in, the android pushing it an AP700 servant model—non-deviated, metallic wheels squeaky from years of use. On it was placed, neatly, a silver coloured aluminium platter.

“I don’t think it w—”, Nines tries to say, but he is cut off by the blonde hostess immediately.

“You weren’t ordered to speak.”

Keeping in mind to file a report about the second android in the room, keeping non-deviated androids has been against the law for months, Nines, despite itself, stays quiet and watches what it'd already determined was a _really_ bad idea. It knows about the procedure, of course. This is nothing illegal— quite common, actually, for newborn’s suspected of higher-than-usual blood craving symptoms. They needed to know which ones to sort out, which ones lied. Somewhere inside itself, though, it feels that doing this to Gavin is highly unwise and unfair. 

It shouldn’t think this. These were the rules.

But its program, still, warns of a potential threat.

Conflicted, it nearly misses when the blood bag is revealed. Reed’s pupils dilate, fixated with straight ahead tunnel vision on what’s so comically presented right in front of him. Stomach twisting and turning, throat screaming out for sweet, sweet surrender. His beast whispering “ _take it_ ” over and over again. He leans forward in his chair to catch a better look at it. And he is _so_ tired.

The guards in the room lift their issued weapons, the hosts ready to press the UV light buttons at any moment, just in case. It’s not rare for a vampire to act out, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Gavin doesn’t register much of this, too distracted by the crimson sloshing around inside of the bag. The label reads B. It’s human blood.

Hostess one, the blonde woman, reaches for a piece of paper and hands it, swiftly, to the AP700 in the room who, without hesitation, delivers it to where the man is slowly losing his control.

“If you are able to, here is your contract to sign. We’ve been over the details with you, so all you have to do is sign this and you can go home. You’ve got two minutes.”

He moves to get up, in trance, willing to let go—when Nines smartly blocks the way and line of sight to the object of interest, now standing to his right. Momentarily, Gavin can snap out of it. Long enough to sign the contract he was handed, stand up and chuck it right back at them.

“Fuckin’ pricks—”, he hisses, quietly, at them.

His face scrunches up; vertigo hits him in the head like a brick. His legs shake, hands cramping up by his sides. The next thing he remembers is Nines catching his falling body, giving out, finally able to hide away in the darkness of his mind. It's not for another 24 hours that Gavin Reed awakes, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hohoo, here we go. Final stage of turning is a full day's worth of beauty sleep. He's almost there.
> 
> Lemme know your thoughts, frens!


	3. Battleships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both man and machine undergo changing of different kinds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has not been beta read thoroughly. Please excuse any errors you might find! I'll be editing all current chapters over soon.

Battleships 

It’s the indecisive tapping of footsteps moving around him that pull his blackened soul from a scorching fever dream. In it, Earth had turned upside down and nothing had made sense anymore. Food and land, rotten to a dirty charcoal core, replaced by a warm, pulsating red flood that took their places. Nothing left but a wide, empty ocean that engulfed him and kept his body safe in its all too familiar hold. It felt like coming home to a place he had long since forgotten. 

But then the waves started crashing against cold, black stone. His eyes opened below waters, a view so rich greeting him he felt as though it stung him right in his heart. Beautiful rays of the midnight sun ominously watching from above swirling, dividing the wine coloured sea. Dancing with the tide, pulling and pushing his breaking will.  
A shadow came to greet him overhead. It told him that this wasn’t eternity, there was work left to do - that the ocean, his home, it would eat him alive and drag him further into darkness lest he fed it and kept it so. This was the balance and the beauty of it all. Dipped just below the surface of something so much bigger and more ancient than him. A point frozen in time, so god forsakenly striking he could hardly believe it was.  
Dangerous movement making his head spin as he floated there, between life above, forever out of reach, and death awaiting him below.

He felt _powerful_.

This power, though, it came at a cost. A sizzling, sparking price so sweet and heavy on his tongue when he opened his mouth, not even the convulsing and pleading of his burning lungs begging for oxygen could drag him out of it when everything inside of him was screaming to uphold the deal. There was no going back from a world so twistedly, dangerously ravishing. Even if there was, he never, ever wanted to leave from here again.

All the while, outside of his otherworldly experiences, in reality, Nines stood and watched Gavin’s lifeless carcass carefully for as long as the turn took its toll. No breaks and no distractions aside from an odd, new sensation the android deemed rather... painful. Something blurring the lines between hope and grief, worry and relief. It made the figure pace restlessly for hours, unsure of what to do about it. Thankfully, it was the nerve-wrecking steps of its inability to comprehend these new emotions that woke Gavin Reed from his full day’s worth of a coma.

The first thing the newborn vampire begrudgingly realizes is that he is not alone. A scowl marks his perfected features, directed at Nines who, upon hearing the man groan softly and move after hours of utter silence, had rushed over at once. This is followed closely by a quick note of his pain and fatigue being wiped clean from his system. _Powerful_ , he recalls from the depths of his mind.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, detective”, Nines says evenly, earning a listless grunt from Gavin in return as the latter rises from the bedsheets, sitting up and evaluating the situation. Lifting both of his hands first, inspecting any probable differences and not noting much besides a general paleness - the comfortingly heavy blanket follows swiftly, joining his discarded clothes on the floor. _When had Nines undressed him?_ Luckily, he becomes conscious of the fact that he is _not_ nude and just received a wardrobe change from the android while he was out cold, before any panic settles in. Somewhere, he finds it in him to feel embarrassed by the fact, though hurriedly stops himself from thinking it. Part of him is grateful for the care he received, after all. If it wasn’t for the other, Gavin might have done things he would later have regretted for the rest of his life. That, or he would be, truly, dead and gone from this world.

Nines, on the other hand, feels a blush creep up his neck, not quite understanding what the cause of its momentary system overheat actually is. Ruling out the possibilities of its factual thinking being compromised due to… unrequited emotions - which is unlikely, because Nines definitely does not feel anything for Gavin Reed-, the android let’s its eyes roam upon the man’s eerily still, yet moving figure. It doesn’t go unnoticed and the grin plastered on the vampire’s features feels dangerous and sharp.

“You’re staring.”

Being caught in the act, Nines locks eyes with him. Like a drop of blood caught in a cold stream, dissolving and merging, it’s mesmerizing.

“I—...”, it swallows thickly around nothing and briefly wonders where this odd behavior is coming from, troubled before it speaks up again with a trembling voice.  
  
“I was merely checking to see if your physical transformation is fully complete.”

“ _Oh,_ oh—! Of course.”

Gavin opens his mouth succinctly, the sharpness of his canines noticeably increased and underlined when he runs his wicked tongue along them, pondering. Undoubtedly, he is amused and does not believe a word the android is saying.

“And what kind of diagnosis did your mech-a-brain come up with, then?” 

A quick scan of his notably near-extinct vitals is concluded. The rising levels of adrenaline pushed aside, the RK900 curses itself internally. _This_ , it thinks, _is why people don’t lie._

“Your physiological turn is one-hundred percent completed”, the android says, matter of factly.  
  
Reed laughs in a dirty, unkind manner, starting to feel brave. “Don’t need much computing capability to figure that out, smartass. I feel _fantastic_ , fuck.”

Nines nods. “I’d imagine. The change brings many benefits with it.”

“No shit. _God_ , I—” The vampire shudders, pushing himself off the bed and standing on steady feet. Every bit of sickness he had previously felt washed away, forever. A pep in his step, full of energy, as he takes his new physicality for a spin. Nines concludes that it’d never seen Gavin so carefree and happy before. Something inside its artificial veins rings positively at the discovery.

“I wanna get out of here and, shit, I don’t know, just have some fucking _fun_ —”, he turns to look at the android that had taken to sit on the edge of his bed, “—whaddya say, plastic? You comin’ with, or what?”

Nines, god forbid, thinks about letting him go for a considerable amount of seconds. Hell, joining him sounds enticing, spectacularly against the rules. Alas, the unit had orders to obey; not because it was _programmed_ to, it tells itself, but because it would certainly like to keep its job at the police force. These days, androids had a hard time finding work as it were.

“Unfortunately, that is out of the question”, it stands up to meet Gavin on semi eye-level, already determining that the vampire would not be happy to hear ‘no’ for an answer, “we are to remain indoors until your starvation period is over. You have been put under a council issued... _curfew_ , for the safety of civilians, and you, alike.”

Turns out, its probability driven pre-construction software did not disappoint.

“No way! ‘fuck you mean, _council issued_?” Gavin stood, disheveled from the cracking thunder of sudden, crashing anger overflowing his veins. Muscles tensing beneath tight clothes, teeth grinding and his eyes looking ready to kill. Nines hopes, sincerely, that this assessment would not come to fruition.

“Shortly after the ceremony, when you had fallen unconscious, the council decided your behavior was too unpredictable to allow you to turn—”

“Alright, then why am I still here, shitface? Clearly, I’ve turned!” The man gestures at himself, his grin replaced by an ugly snarl. 

Nines furrows its brows, irritated by the other’s constant impatience and sudden rudeness.

“Yes. It took me nearly three hours, a deal with Connor and _many_ compromises to change their minds, effectively.” 

Sturdy white fabric crinkles around its joints when it daintily moves its hands behind its back, waiting on any response in a way that makes Gavin’s blood boil and his stomach twist. _Emotionally sensitive_ , its HUD offers helpfully. Once again, their eyes meet — only this time, there is no unspoken magic to it. In lieu to their graceful circling, the playful dance of opposites attracting, this feels like fire crashing into ice. Lucid, a harsh winter and ambers in the sky from nearing battleships arriving on the horizon, preparing for war. Hot and cold, a sickness full of temper. It’s when Gavin steps closer, aggression taking the lead, that the RK900’s LED spins a scarlet warning into the darkness of the room. 

“I’d strongly advise against this, detective” it comments, catching a glimpse of tensed fists by Reed’s sides and the latter prepares to fight dirty. Nines’ components whirr with a strange anticipation.

“Why?”, Gavin licks his lips and scoffs, “What, you gonna snitch? Gonna tell them I couldn’t behave like a perfect little lap dog? Is that it?”

Nines both expects it, and doesn’t expect it when the other grips its sleek, white uniform by the collar and pulls the android close enough to startle it. Its eyes, ever unmoving and still trapped in the man’s heated gaze, hide the fact from him expertly. The lack of a reaction spurs Gavin on even more; an invitation to see just how much it takes for an android to wince in pain. He is determined to find out.

The question makes it think. Really, _what would be the best approach_ ? The instructions it had been given state to ensure Reed’s safety at all costs, to protect him from himself were things to go south. Clearly, Captain Fowler had been worried when he made the call. Now, evidently, south is where the road is headed— fastly so. Admittedly, it never crossed Nines’ mind that Gavin might escalate like this. Of course that, in a state of unhinged empowerment, the newborn vampire would challenge its capacities is not surprising. It's the shift in demeanor that caught the android off guard. An outcome such as this, it hadn't been accounting for. Well, not so _soon_ , anyway. 

Brute displays of stupid behavior aren’t going to get Gavin very far. And that’s not to mention the awful, condescending tone in his voice whenever the man spoke about- or _to_ androids. Particularly the RK900 who, despite Connor really, _really_ trying to help, has been having problems accepting its deviancy. Being alive, it's only been bringing the android misery, so far. It was designed and built to be a better, more efficient and stone cold law enforcement unit, not a better human emotion emulating _experiment_ , like its predecessor. 

Cyberlife had not shied away from anything, no matter the expenses, to try and fool Connor into believing that his primary function had been apprehending deviants when it had always been Nines who was meant for that kind of job. The RK800 had been planted strategically to gather as much intell on deviation as possible, including research data in form of an unstable software that recorded and stored deviancy code strings while Connor was slowly abandoning his faux mission in favor of becoming more and more human-esque. They were strictly monitoring his every move, his every decision and giving him pointless tasks to round the stress testing phases up neatly, using the collected data from its prototype in the attempt of stopping the virus from spreading. 

And where Connor’s fully autonomous social module gave him the freedom of self-expression and decisions, down the line, Nines had not been made bearing any of that in mind. In fact, it’s quite the opposite; A flawless deviant-killing, free-will destroying machine— a true android detective. The RK900.

Or so it was planned. They both had been pawns in the game their makers were playing, and sometimes Nines can't help but to pity its predecessor. It must not be easy to come to terms with the harsh reality of how expandable he would have been, had the revolution not put an end to what was yet to come. 

Though, it figures it’s unfair to think of the RK800 as such, to reduce and belittle him to a simple test subject like Amanda had done. _Why_ that is, why it feels the stinging and sour feeling of guilt at what his mind provided him with, it doesn’t know. It can’t place any of its acquired emotions. And it’s _frustrating_. Oh, how it longs to be plunged back into blissful obliviousness.

But in the end, it doesn't matter. Acceptance holds more weight than silly, little wishes and dreams. Being as aware, as calculated as possible _is_ more efficient, after all. And efficiency; that a highly capable police android knows how to achieve.

It—... _he_ is alive now, a person in _his_ own right. Hell, he’s been alive for well over three months now. And right now, Gavin Reed is disrespecting this fact, as well as crossing many boundaries not to be messed with. Nines fully intends to stop him from wandering off too far into places the vampire might never be able to return from. And so, he narrows his silvery eyes at the other, speaks up with a voice unbothered by Gavin’s antics.

“Don’t pick fights uselessly, Gavin. Know your place. This is getting you nowhere.”

Reed bares his pearl white teeth before shoving the android backwards, harshly. It sends Nines crashing straight into a wall, his chassis cracking obscenely at the sheer force of it all, and his processors needing a few seconds to reboot. During this time, he’s left helplessly watching Gavin creep up on him, unable to move and his voice module glitching, overloaded. The only sound escaping his slack jawed mouth is a pained groan accompanied by static.

“You really need to learn when to shut your fucking mouth”, hugging his right fist with his left hand and giving his wrist a much needed _crack_ for good measure, Gavin watches the machine closely.

It was foolish to get accustomed to it, he knows this now. Could see it clear as day. Truly, he can’t believe he’d agreed to letting an _android_ babysit him in the first place. How humiliating! What was he thinking? Deviancy, it’s… it doesn’t exist, not really. If anything, Gavin is convinced it’s a program _simulating_ free will. Some sort of virus making them behave like this, spreading like a foul disease over annoying, albeit functioning gimmicks. All fake, not a single thing real about these fuckers. Yeah, Kamski made sure everybody would eventually fall for his little scheme, didn’t he? Fuckin’ coward and nothing more, hiding behind his army of plastic perfect cyber-creatures. They can’t care, can’t _feel_ anything. It doesn’t matter how lonely he might be, Gavin would not fall for this eccentric theatrical play. He is better than this, now. A better version of himself, stronger and faster and _superior_.

“It is nothing but a simple warning, detective”, the android blinks slowly, grimacing as he feels an uncomfortable pulsing throughout his body, “I’m only trying to help you stay on track. It’s what I’m here for, remember?”

“All you've been doing since you… _invaded_ my home is order me around, tell me what to do, what to fuckin' _wear_. I should pull you apart piece by goddamn piece and sell you off to some android modding bastard, you little prick!”

“You shouldn’t damage me further. Repairs will prove difficult if I were to shut down. I am an unfinished prototype, I have sparse compatibility with other models.”

A scoff sounds. “Oh yeah?”

Nines sways lightly, legs struggling to hold his weight. The slow, hushed footsteps echoing through the small room send shivers down his Thirium leaking back. He can feel the blue liquid drip from where a crack had formed, at the base of his neck, down onto the carpet.

“ _Good_.”

In this moment the RK900 finds himself to feel rather small in the presence of the vampire. A mountain lion to the cliffs it clings onto for dear life, hanging off the edge about to plunge into darkness. Had this been what it meant to feel alive? The thrilling vibrations of fear in his core making his world spin? Something akin to pain thrumming in his wires?

And even through all of it, he still wasn’t afraid of the creature unleashing whatever strength it held upon his very person. No, he is terrified of the inflicted pain that comes with rejection. Not being good enough. Being sent away, replaced by someone who wouldn’t upset him or someone better suiting Gavin’s needs. Why that was, Nines couldn’t begin to understand, but it was clear to him that he needed to stay and see this through. 

When Gavin boxes him in, the android swears his audio processors pick up on a low, vibrating growl that escapes the man, enraged and spurred on by invisible, animalistic forces. It’s a string so tightly pulled, the previously anticipated _snap_ is inevitable. 

Gavin pushes his arm up against Nines’ throat, pressing up strongly and it’s there when he sees it, the reaction he was hoping for. Nines begins choking, wincing, struggling against his strength. The vampire ravishes in it for as long as he can, when a quiet noise catches his attention. 

Quiet but distinct scratching on the closed and locked bedroom door, a tiny, quickly beating heart overfilled with his potential first meal. He can smell the blood pumping through familiar veins. Gavin’s attention flickers and Nines curses himself and his foolishness. Of course Nines is aware of what happened. The very second Reed’s head snapped so violently to the left it made a nasty sound, making his whole body stutter, he knew. 

_How could he have forgotten about the damn cat_?! He must have been too distracted by Gavin, the council and the turn, to remember bringing her to a shelter for safe keeping.

As Gavin starts to take action, marching to the door and looking about ready to tear it down if he has to, a loud hiss comes from his biocomponents as they cool off during standby, followed by a whine in the back of his throat. Clearly, he had failed at being a reliable asset to this mission. Yet, he doesn’t know why he still pretends to care about that when it’s evident all he really sought out by accepting it was to protect Reed after having failed at doing so the first time he got the chance. Some twisted need in him wanted to make amends, despite having known this outcome was possible since the day he got assigned. Again, not so soon, but of course a newborn could display tendencies to challenge its caretaker. Rebel against the system. This happens all the time, Nines knows this, but something about Gavin in particular acting out is getting to him in a way he simply can’t fathom.

It’s almost like a slick goo sticking to his insides and preventing him from functioning properly. A sick sense of pride whenever he sees the vampire’s heated gaze on his, a pure and unfiltered terror as all he could do was stand there and watch.

The ever-lasting 10 seconds between him and saving the animal stretched thin. _To feel truly helpless_ , he thinks, _maybe this is what it means to be alive_.

Gavin shook the door handle a few times before settling on twisting it, breaking it off to effectively open it wide. Saliva drips slowly from the corner of his mouth, down to the stubble of his chin. The scent, it’s _divine_. In front of him sits the small creature for no less than a few seconds before his teeth sink right into— 

thin air.

It takes him a second to adjust, to realize what had happened. Confusion and an unfamiliar sting of pain momentarily taking forefront in his preoccupied mind.

Then he sets eyes on the android with the cat in his jolting, jittery arms and concentrates harder while Nines is anxiously awaiting any form of response from the man in front of him. He watches the dark splodges of blood trickle from where Gavin bit himself, lip split open from two puncture wounds his fangs left him with. The sting settles deep within, a sort of haze overcoming the vampire’s senses and numbing him, pulling him down onto his knees, the thunder inside ceasing to make noise. Somewhere, a different type of pain overcomes Gavin, right before he dozes off, and he swears he’s never felt quite as horrible as this before. 

A vampire’s venom is known to be strong— strong enough to knock other vampires out if necessary. Not a deadly sort of poison, but said to have a calming effect on whichever organism it is injected into. Okay, the venom affecting the vampire ejecting it had been a working theory and Nines is not happy about this. In fact, he wishes there was any other way to restrain the beast slithering inside the man, but there had been no second option and he was running out of time. If Gavin had gone through with this, had nurtured his need to kill from day one onward, there would be no stopping him. Not to mention that, once off his high, he would have hated himself until the hunger came back. Or so he hopes, at the very least, if there is any chance his conscience is still present, somewhere currently hidden beneath. 

Feeding him so soon… it’s simply not happening. Until Nines is certain the other can, figuratively, stomach it and get his emotions under control, there would need to be better precautions taken. Ones preferably accounted for … _off the radar_ , so to speak.

* * *

The android holds onto Gavin’s cat, gently petting the little fellow when he decides to make a courtesy call. This time, he will not take any chances. He will be prepared, knowing what to expect. Luckily, Jeffrey Fowler accepts his query and comes by swiftly to pick up everything Nines had asked him to, on the line.

Fowler is quick to note the sight of Gavin, whom the android had gently carried back to bed before the captain had arrived.

“He looks peaceful”, he says, “if you try not to think about him growing razors inside that bitchin’ potty mouth of his, that is.”

“Certainly”, Nines comments, watching Gavin with an emotion he can’t quite place pooling at the bottom of his stomach. It is strange, indefinable where previously it might have been clear. Or _should_ have been, anyway. Maybe, he reckons, this is a form of denial speaking for him.

For now all he opts for is paying the unsatisfied beast within, lurking just below the surface and waiting to strike, no mind. It could consume him another day.

“Are you sure this is everything?”

Nines nods. “I’ve made an effort to double-check everything, twice, during his turn.” 

Not necessarily a lie on his part.

Fowler makes a face and, semi-annoyedly, lifts his hand between them. “You’re not actually telling me you went through all that damn trouble, and then you forget about the damn _cat_?”

“Yes. I was— … I got _distracted_. I apologize for the inconvenience, captain”, Nines reaches down to pick up the transport box, handing the creature over carefully, “but thank you for coming.”

“Whatever”, a strangled huff escapes the man, picking up the box, cat squirming inside, “just don’t call me again until this shit’s dealt with.”

Within the next hour, anything related to the pet, any leftover food and other unnecessary items, were gone from the apartment and his chassis was second-handedly repaired for the time being. Crack sealed off with hardening mass to stop Thirium from leaking all over the place. The sealum gave off an unpleasant stench throughout the chemical drying process— unfortunately the portable repair-kit Connor brought over didn’t offer many options.

Hank Anderson had him dial Cyberlife to schedule an appointment as soon as possible even though Nines assured him that it wasn’t needed. However, if there is one thing he’s learned by now, it’s that there is no arguing with his predecessor when it comes to caring about someone.

Absently, the RK900 plays with the quarter Connor left him with. Standing right outside the room Gavin would be waking up in, a second time not long from now, and pondering.

Of course, he hadn’t told anyone about what really happened— the crack reaching up to his skull was an accident, as far as the department was aware. To their knowledge, Gavin hadn’t yet woken up. Staying here, alone with him, still projected a certain type of danger onto both of them; he is conscious of the fact that this is a _tremendously_ bad idea. Not only did Nines lie, he covered up attempted murder on himself and Gavin’s close call to law breaking animalistic behavior. If the turn really did change his mentality and morality for worse, he knows he put many lives at risk by staying silent. There is nothing stopping the creature from upholding his threatening promise, breaking him and shutting him down for good. If at any point Gavin can’t control himself again, there is a high probability he won’t get out of this alive. And the scariest part of all is that the idea of it doesn’t seem to bother him.

Nimble fingers trace the silvery, gleaming edge of the coin in his left hand. Reds and oranges contrasting the cold, blue hue of the metal where the sinking sun hits his synthetic skin. His databank comes up with image suggestions for what the broken lights hugging the object so fiercely remind him of. Polished metal frames, dust particles roaming through the air, illuminated by the first rays of pure, unfiltered daylight they had seen for the first time in months. The memory makes him recoil and the quarter falls to the ground— _ting_.

Gavin’s eyes snap wide open, ruby red irises staring at the ceiling. A strange sense of déjà-vu washes over him that he is quick to shrug off. _What happened_ ? And where is he? His cold hand comes up to trace his pricked lower lip, still giving off phantom pain even though it’s already taking the liberty to heal. _The fangs_ , he recalls, _the turn and the fight_. A near inaudible groan leaves his chest, arm thrown over his eyes in shame. He remembers the anger, a faint residue of it still traveling through his system.

Still lying down, hiding his emotions away, Gavin calls out; “Nines?”

Outside the door, the android in question stiffens uncomfortably on the spot. His noisy self likely woke the other prematurely. Unsure what to do, he decides not to respond as to not agitate the vampire further. For all he knows, Gavin might still want to rip his throat out and that would not be ideal.

When no answer sounds and only silence is what he’s left with, he swallows his stupid pride and finally sits up. Upon doing so, he catches a glimpse of the indent on the wall, where paint has chipped off and fallen to make a dusty mess on the floor. This is not to mention the big, blue splodge of blue blood decorating the space right beneath where he had pinned Nines against, a trail of it seeping downwards and pooling underneath. There is too much of it. Alright, he deserves the silent treatment. Hell, he deserves to be kicked in the balls for what he had done to the only being on this godforsaken earth that still gives a shit about what happens to him.

“ _God damn it_ ”, he mumbles into his hands, rubbing his face over a few times to try and calm himself down before his anxiety gets the best of him. This is not what he thought would happen. Sure, he knows about the whole ‘vampires are monsters’ ordeal, if it hadn’t been obvious by now that he hated the fucking things as much as the next guy, but experiencing _being_ the monster is of an entirely different caliber. What, did he really think he’d be some kind of special boy, just ‘cause? That he’d magically be wielding all the answers, perfect self-control included, to change the world for the better? Bitterly, he laughs at himself in vain. This had only been day one. He can’t do this.

“I am going to enter the room now, detective. Is that alright?”

However Nines manages to sound so helplessly small in comparison to earlier, Gavin might never understand, but it truly hurts him where he never thought possible. One shaky breath later, before he can even tell him no, he already hears the key turning. The wooden door sways open without added pressure and the man, in his foul mood, is struck by yet another pang of hurt when he glances at the discarded, awfully bent handle on the carpet. 

The vampire looks distraught, despair reflecting back at the android in full force. _He_ _feels_ _ashamed_ , his HUD tells him after a quick once-over. Without a worry in the world, Nines steps up to him, already having assessed that the other would, very likely, not start another fight today. That is, if the 78% probability was of any meaningful use. 

Gavin simply refuses to acknowledge his presence, fixated on trying to will his emotions down. Something about his mood seems off, still. But instead of anger, it’s a hurricane of feelings he can’t seem to run away from. And it’s tearing down all of his walls, one by one.

They silently exist with each other, neither of them breathing nor making any sound. Both staying at a safe distance for entirely different reasons. It is a surprise to hear Gavin speak up, first.

“I can’t control it.”

“I know.”

Gavin looks up, brows furrowed and eyes desperately searching for answers he knows the other can’t give him. “ _You know?_ That’s all you have to say?”

Nines tilts his head softly to one side, not questioning or curious but almost caringly.

“I should have predicted that something like that might happen”, he states, “I didn’t. It was my mistake.”

“Are you hearing yourself, right now?” Gavin stands, making sure not to move too hastily.

“What do you mean?”  
  
“I nearly killed you and all you’re worried about is underperforming or some shit. How are you not scared shitless of me after— ”, he gestures to the picture of horror still splattered on the wall beside them to make his point. The blue blood is starting to dry and evaporate. Nines follows his gaze and frowns for a moment, looking down to process and think of how best to put what he’s been struggling to understand into words. In the end, after a minute of more deafening silence in the room, he gives up.

“I don’t know”, he admits shamefully, “but I’m not. Isn’t that what matters?”

Gavin runs his hands through the messy mop of hair on his head, struggling to comprehend. “I damaged you—!”

“It has already been taken care of”, Nines interrupts. He tries very hard to appear ever so unbothered on the surface, but it all doesn’t seem so easy anymore. Something changed him, after their first encounter, and he doesn’t know what. Apparently Gavin hadn’t been the only one to go through a significant turn faster than one normally would.

Stumped, the vampire stumbles over his words for a moment. “Who fixed you?”

Nines hesitates for a moment before answering. “I called captain Fowler in to assist me. To make sure everything is alright.”

“Fuck, Fowler was here?!” Gavin feels his thickened blood start to boil. This time, he takes a deep breath and turns away from the android. “ _Shit._ ” 

“Do you need a moment?” The android worries, moving to leave unprompted which has Gavin panicking for a second.

“No, no it’s… I’m fine.” The vampire hooks his arms around the back of his neck, in thought. “Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“Fuck. The _wound_ , dipshit.” Gavin grimaces at his awful wording immediately.

All the while the RK900’s systems stutter. _Oh._

* * *

Technically speaking, it made perfect sense that one would want to inspect any damage inflicted on him. Technically, he was used to the procedures that came with attending countless, generic check-up appointments. And technically, this should not have been affecting him the way it did. 

And yet again, life had found another cruel way of knocking him off balance. One that started with him taking too long to undress his upper body, so Gavin, impatient as he was, had to do it for him. And one that ended with cold fingers tracing the outline of the ugly, numb crack reaching from his lower skull to the middle of his man-made spine. He had been amazed at how his synthetic skin was able to emulate cutis anserina— goosebumps covering his arms and the parts of his neck that weren’t broken and exposed.

But now, the shivers he experiences each time the pads of Gavin’s fingers reach and touch over the hardened sealum, over the pulsating glow of blue where his skin retracted to reveal the white of his chassis, are becoming a little too eager for his liking. The faint, simulated blush is embarrassing and uncalled for.

The vampire, though circumstantially different, feels an equal amount of shame flare up inside. Whenever he lets his curious hands glide smoothly over the seamless surface of the exposed plastic, he can feel a tingle in his fingertips that lingers for a few seconds, undoubtedly caused by some sort of electromagnetic charge that was happening beneath. He’s never been able to observe the intricacies of an android from up close, before. No, he hated these things with all his might before the revolution and ended up with a general discontempt for them right after, still he can’t help but find this beautiful. Denial can be one hell of a stubborn motherfucker.

Declaring his curiosity satisfied for the time being, he let’s go of the other and when the android turns back around, hiding the crack from his view again, it’s damn near impossible to mistake his expression for anything but human. The dark rosé colour on his cheeks, glossy blue eyes staring up at him sadly. He swallows thickly. _Yeah, you really fucked up, this time_.

A few beats pass between them in which neither deem it necessary to break whatever kind of moment they had achieved to wind up in, like this. It feels almost like a dream, foggy and warm, when it shouldn’t be. And where Nines was, unbeknownst to him, trying to learn and understand, to push and prod and analyze, Gavin wanted the opposite. _Don’t act, don’t think and don’t feel_. Too much of that and who knows what chaos might reign, with how awfully he manages to keep it under wraps these days, anyway.

“How does it look?” Nines’ voice startles him, eyes widening in a state of surprise.

“What?”

“The _wound_ ”, the android mocks, trying to smile, “how does it look?”

Keep it together, Reed.

“I mean, it’s not bad.” Great. He lost his self control and gained amplified emotional awareness, but the dumbass in him got to stay? Vampirism is a joke.

Nines nods, fumbling to put his black dress shirt back on, offering no further comments on the matter. Gavin sighs, burying his tired face back into his hands. He knows his busy mind will not let him rest a second longer if he doesn’t speak up now.

“Hey—”

“Hm?” The android looks up, fingers working away at his buttons one by one. Whatever program he had running up in there right now, it made the action display so effortlessly _real_ , Gavin’s heart tugged at his better judgement and he needed to compose himself for the millionth time that evening. Damn him, damn all of this.

He clears his throat. “When Jeffrey was here, ‘you talk to him?”

Nines finishes the last button with a glance down, checking to see if his appearance is on par with his standards. 

“Yes”, he starts, brushing the shirt off neatly, “I spoke to the captain briefly. Mostly about where to temporarily store certain things I had him pick up.”

The last sentence makes Gavin look around, noting that quite a few of his belongings are, indeed, missing. In a flash, he painfully remembers almost eating his cat. Before he can say anything, however, Nines stops him.

“She is safe and was transported to a new home.”

“And Fowler, did you tell him about the—”

“I did not”, the android interrupts and Gavin exhales the air he hadn’t realized he’s been holding sharply into the quiet of the nearing night.

Relief flushed some of the guilt down the drain, at last. A sign the android appreciates picking up on. So far it seems the detective’s condition partially stabilized, at least somewhat. He will have to refer to a doctor with more insight on the matter to statistically pinpoint just what the man is going through and adapt to the changes accordingly. For now, they will simply have to take things slow.

Nines thinks his next words over carefully before he adds;

“And I don’t plan on doing so, anytime soon. For your information.” 

Gavin is unsure about the other’s intentions and, truthfully, Nines’ emotions on the matter are not dissimilar.

“We’ve barely known each other for, what, two days? Three?” Nines studies the vampire’s expressions closely as he speaks. “You keep risking your little android ass trying to help me out. I don’t get it. Are you broken, or something?”

“I truly hope your question is rhetorical”, the android counters, smugly reaching up and patting his neck. Gavin huffs, a chuckle making it past his lips.

“ _Fuck_. Look at that! It’s got humor.exe running on auto. I can’t believe it.”

Nines enjoys the bickering far more when it’s not genuine, he thinks. Smiling at the vampire, whose grin seems oddly soft in contrast to the sharpness it had radiated earlier that day. It’s not until Gavin moves over to the door, stating, with a raspy sound to his voice, that he’d go take a shower and him following close behind to make sure he is telling the truth, that the android is reminded of polished metal frames, dust particles roaming through the air, illuminated by the first rays of pure, unfiltered daylight they had seen for the first time in months. The quarter, abandoned on the floor, sitting in darkness all alone.

_Abused, forgotten, left behind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not be venturing into a bit of a backstory for Nines here! Being me and therefore into both the vampire and android aspect of this world, I'm definitely excited to explore the android some more as well! Hopefully you liked this chapter. Let me know what you think so far, I love reading comments and am open for feedback any time! :D
> 
> ALSO, fair warning; there will definitely be more fights happening. I'm hoping to make the distrust and anger directed directly at Them, not at what they might be. For that there needed to be a sort of neutral starting point. It's fluctuating right now, but it will get worse before it gets better - referring to the slow-burn and enemies to lovers tags here hardcore LOL.


End file.
